


Dirty Deeds

by Chiyume



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bucky is a shameless little shit, Clothed Sex, Flirting, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Random Encounters, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Steve ain't much better, laundromat sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14152836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/pseuds/Chiyume
Summary: “Actually, I think you’re hot,” Steve blurts out in a surge of boldness, and oh, god, he actually said it.Bucky instantly stops laughing. However, he doesn’t stop smiling. “Do you, now?” he drawls as he drags his fingertips over the countertop in a lazy circle, biting at his lip again.  “You think I’m hot enough to be allowed back there with you?”Steve works the late hours at the local laundromat on a slow night, when suddenly a stranger appears to make his working hours a lot more interesting...





	Dirty Deeds

The laundromat is quiet, the low buzz of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling the only thing disturbing the silence as Steve sits behind the front desk, reading. It’s a mystery novel tonight – not Steve’s normal choice of literature, but Sam had insisted he read it, for the suspense, he had said. 

So far it’s… alright, Steve supposes. A bit slow on the uptake, maybe, but a few hundred pages in like this it’s actually… well,  _ alright. _

He sighs and lifts his gaze to take a look around the room, even though he knows that it’ll look just like it had ten minutes ago. It’s a slow night; people aren’t exactly lining up to wash their clothes at 2AM on a Wednesday morning, but someone’s still got to man the place. And the night shift pays well, so it’s not as if Steve minds the last minute request to fill in for Sam when the guy had ended up with a stomach virus. Poor bastard…

Steve’s just gone back to reading his book when the door chimes, announcing that someone else has just entered the laundromat. Steve flashes a gaze to the door and performs his regular observation and registration of the new patron. 

Man. Late twenties. Brown hair, leather jacket, blue jeans. Tall, broad across the shoulders, slim waist.

_ Great  _ ass.

Steve smiles to himself and returns to the pages before him while the guy heads over to one of the machines at the front of the room. Once there, the man unceremoniously shoves the content of his laundry bag into the washer, before digging into the pocket of his jeans. He empties them, and Steve can hear the chime of coins against the machine top, followed by the crinkle of a plastic wrapper. Normal, ordinary sounds.

The sound that follows, however, is equally as familiar as it is displaced. A low crunch of a zipper parting, and yup, as Steve looks up for the third time, there the guy is: completely shirtless and halfway through the process of sliding off his jeans.

Steve stares at the other man’s back, unable to keep his gaze from trailing down the sculpted shoulder blades and defined muscles as the jeans come off to reveal a perfectly rounded back side, covered by white boxer briefs.

_ Oh, yes, _ Steve thinks to himself.  _ That is a  _ very  _ nice ass, indeed…   _

He watches the man step out of the jeans without even bothering to take off his boots first, and how he then shoves his discarded clothing into the machine, closes the lid, and reaches for the detergent. As he does, however, he throws a nonchalant glance over his shoulder, and Steve quickly ducks his head.

He got caught, he knows it, but he stubbornly keeps his gaze lowered while the other man finishes up by the machine, silently praying that he hadn’t come off looking like a total perv.

The machine whirs to life, and the stranger casually walks over to sit down on one of the benches placed around the room. More specifically, the one placed opposite of the desk Steve’s currently seated at. He’s just as good looking from the front as he had been from behind. Toned muscles, gorgeous face, and well-shaped thighs. With his smartphone in hand, the guy sits down with a low huff before nonchalantly throwing his left boot up to rest it on the opposite knee; creating the perfect triangular frame centered around his crotch.

Not looking is an impossibility, and as Steve glances over the top of his book, he can clearly see the outline of the man’s cock through the cotton of the underwear. The contour presses against the fabric in a smooth curve, hypnotically thick, and by the time Steve realizes that he’s staring again, it’s already too late.

Blue eyes meet with his as the guy looks up, and Steve quickly hides behind his book once more, knowing full well how absolutely ridiculous he must look by now. And sure enough, this time, he actually hears the guy snort out a chuckle as he does so.

Dammit.

The guy is smiling down at his phone, lips pursed like he’s trying to keep himself from grinning. He’s got a dimpled chin, Steve notices with a wistful groan on the inside. Could this situation  _ be  _ any more cruel?

“You like it?”

Steve just barely avoids the impulse to jump right out of his chair when the guy suddenly speaks, and he jerks his head up, staring at the man in confusion. “What?” he asks, ignoring that his brain had just drawn a very graphic parallel between the question and the view of the guy’s clothed dick.

“Your book,” the man clarifies with a slanted smile. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, uh…” Steve turns the book around to look at the cover, as if he’s already forgotten what exactly he’s been reading for the past three hours. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it’s good. It’s alright.”

“Nice,” the man replies. “Few things that beat an exciting read, am I right?”

_ Right now, I can think of at least one thing, _ Steve’s mind supplies helpfully, and Steve discreetly clears his throat, nodding in silence.

When the stranger doesn’t follow his previous statement up with anything else, Steve makes yet another valiant attempt to keep reading. It turns out to be completely futile, as his eyes simply glide over the same sentences over and over, registering nothing. So it’s almost a relief when the man suddenly stands up from his bench and comes walking up to lean his elbow against Steve’s desk.

“So,” he says in a tone that has the word  _ ice breaker _ written all over it, “slow night, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “People usually come here on evenings or weekends. After midnight it tends to get pretty… empty.”

“Doesn’t it get boring?” the guy asks curiously, and Steve blinks.

“Well, I… I have my book,” he says. He holds the book up, front cover first, like proof, and the man instantly ducks his head with an amused laugh.

“You’re right,” he agrees, nodding. “I guess, what I meant to ask was, doesn’t it get  _ lonely? _ ”

Their gazes clash. The guy is still smiling, and as Steve looks on, he briefly pulls his lower lip in between his teeth before letting it go just as fast.

God, he’s hot, and before he knows it, Steve catches himself licking his own lips while curiously wondering about the taste of the ones in front of him.

“Sometimes,” he replies hoarsely. They’re still looking at each other, and as the man’s smile widens, Steve can physically feel himself starting to blush.

“Oh, god, where are my manners?” the guy suddenly exclaims with a berating slap to his own forehead. “I just came in here and jumped all over you without even telling you my name. I’m Bucky.”

He offers Steve his hand, and Steve takes it. The hand is strong, the grip firm. It makes Steve’s mind race in so many inappropriate directions.

“And you?” Bucky continues curiously.

“Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re cute.”

Steve chokes a little on his own breath at the sudden compliment, and the surprised, “Thanks,” that he manages in return comes out sounding more like a croak than an actual word. 

“What?” Bucky asks sweetly after a moment of pause. “You’re not gonna say I’m cute back?” 

Steve blinks. “Oh,” he stutters. “Uh, yeah, of course, uh, you’re—” He doesn’t get time to finish his sentence however, before Bucky starts laughing again, and Steve’s positively sure that even the roots of his hair are blushing as Bucky apologetically waves his hand at him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, that wasn’t fair of me at all.”

“Actually, I think you’re hot,” Steve blurts out in a surge of boldness, and oh, god, he actually _said_ it. 

Bucky instantly stops laughing. However, he doesn’t stop smiling. “Do you, now?” he drawls as he drags his fingertips over the countertop in a lazy circle, biting at his lip again.  “You think I’m hot enough to be allowed back there with you?”

Steve nods. He feels  dazed, even more so as Bucky begins to saunter around the counter, looking Steve in the eye as he goes. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of Steve’s office chair, using his knees to slowly nudge Steve’s legs apart, bringing his crotch in until it’s level with Steve’s face. Once there, Bucky reaches down to slowly run his fingers along the edge of Steve’s jaw, using the gentle leverage to tip his head back. 

“Yeah…” he murmurs. “You’re  _ very _ cute…”

Steve swallows hard, unable to look away. Is he dreaming? Has he fallen asleep, drooling on the counter while his brain conjures up this amazing scenario for him?

He shifts in his seat, and instantly feels his jeans strain over his crotch.

Well,  _ something’s  _ awake, at least.

He watches Bucky reach down and grab his left hand, pulling it up and placing it against Bucky’s bared stomach. Bucky’s skin is warm, and Steve breathes out a shaky sigh as Bucky starts sliding it up; past the curve of his ribs, up to his pecs, his nipple dragging against Steve’s open palm.

Steve glances towards the corner of the room. The security camera there has been dead for months now, but nonetheless, a paranoid part of his mind still urges him to check for the presence of a little red light. He’s relieved when he finds none.

Then, as Steve’s arm fails to reach any higher, Bucky simply sinks to his knees in a movement so graceful and fluid, it could easily have stolen Steve’s breath away, had Steve not already been breathless. From there, Bucky drags Steve’s hand up to his throat, jaw, and chin, before licking Steve’s index finger into his mouth with a lewd curl of his tongue.

Steve moans, too loud to ever hope to deny it, and Bucky’s lips stretch into a smile around the finger between them. It’s sinful; that’s the only word Steve can come up with that seems to fit.

“I like the taste of your skin,” Bucky offers as he pulls the finger out with a low pop. “It’s sweet, just like you.” He reaches for the hem of Steve’s jeans, fingers grasping the tag of the zipper. “Makes me wonder if you’re that sweet all over?”

Steve can’t bring himself to reply. He simply holds his breath as he watches Bucky unzip his pants. As Bucky tugs the jeans down to hang low on Steve’s hips, Steve grabs around the armrests of his chair, both to steady himself, and to avoid getting himself yanked right off the seat. Damn, this guy’s strong.

Bucky doesn’t waste any time; he reaches in to skillfully guide Steve’s cock out of his underwear, his hand steady, fingers warm. Steve can only stare, slack jawed, as Bucky gives his cockhead a shallow lick, as if tasting it, and then Bucky bows his head, and all Steve can feel is wet, slick heat.

He fumbles for the edge of his desk as his eyes threaten to roll back in his head. Bucky’s mouth slides up and down his shaft, and he can feel the curve of Bucky’s tongue move over his frenulum in slow flicks every time he pulls up. 

Fuck, Steve can’t believe this is happening. How is this even  _ real? _ He tightens his fingers around the armrest with a groan, not daring to touch Bucky should it all really just be a dream. And by god, if it is, Steve  _ really  _ doesn’t want to wake up.

He keeps looking on as Bucky works him over with his mouth, his eyelids slowly dropping, when suddenly the bell by the door gives a loud, obnoxious chime. Steve abruptly turns towards the sound at the same time as he tries to shove Bucky off his lap, but Bucky just grabs the chair with a reprimanding glare his way, and Steve freezes.

The redheaded woman who had just walked through the door with her laundry bag slung over the shoulder waves a polite, “Hi,” in Steve’s direction, and Steve answers with a quick, albeit strained smile. Behind the counter, and without ever letting Steve’s cock slip out of his mouth, Bucky spins the chair around. Making Steve face the room even more fully, Bucky hides himself underneath Steve’s desk while Steve is forced to simply sit there as the woman strides up to a machine right in front of the counter, and starts loading it with laundry.

Leaning back and glancing down, Steve catches Bucky’s eye. “What are you  _ doing? _ ” he hisses under his breath, only to choke halfway through his sentence as Bucky takes him all the way into his mouth with a determined hollowing of his cheeks. Steve just barely manages to disguise the moan the action pushes out of his throat as a cough, clenching both his hands into fists against the desktop.

“Is there a problem?” the woman says, turning around to look at him with a quizzical frown, apparently thinking the cough had been aimed at her. “I thought I could just pick any machine I wanted?”

“No,” Steve answers with a vigorous shake of his head. “No, you’re right, you can pick any— anyone you want.”

The woman’s frown deepens slightly as Steve trips over his own words, courtesy of another enthusiastic suck from Bucky, but then she turns her back to him once more and continues loading up the machine. Steve, now struggling to keep his breathing steady, slowly reaches down below the desk and grabs around the back of Bucky’s head while discreetly pressing his fist against his own mouth with the other.  

As Bucky gives an audible slurp, Steve gasps sharply into his fist while biting down hard on his lower lip, praying that the woman hadn’t heard either of them. He keeps staring down at the book that’s still lying splayed open on the counter, pretending to read it even though all he can focus on is the increasingly rapid bob of Bucky’s head that’s visible in the corner of his eye.

After what feels like ages, the woman puts the final piece of clothing into the machine. Filling up on detergent, she then begins sliding the quarters into the coin slot, one by one. She takes her time doing so, and Steve has honestly never wished for someone to hurry up more in his goddamn life. His hands are shaking, his knees trembling, the muscles of his thighs quivering. He’s trying to hold it back by biting his lip almost to the point of breaking skin, and he’s probably got over thirty shades of red covering his face, but he can’t help it, much less stop.

“Hey,” the woman calls out, turning around while pointing to the now whirring machine. “You’ll keep an eye on this for me, right? I don’t have to stay here or anything?”

Steve opens his mouth, but just as he does, Bucky picks up pace. Steve fists the brunet’s hair in an attempt to hold him back,only to feel the vibrations of Bucky’s responding – and thank god muffled – moan travel down his cock. 

“Nope,” he says with a smile, and jesus christ, he can barely even manage  _ that. _ “You can leave.”

_ Please, for the love of god,  _ please _ leave! _

He keeps the smile up, polite, and probably a bit creepy-looking from where this poor woman is regarding him, and eventually she slings her now-empty laundry bag over her shoulder and walks out the door without as much as a glance his way.

The moment the door closes, Steve shoves his chair back with a loud gasp towards the ceiling, feeling himself slide out of from between Bucky’s lips. When he looks down, Bucky is chuckling and wiping off the drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Steve, who’s panting hard, is still holding on to the locks of Bucky’s hair, but still, Bucky’s eyes are gleaming with obvious satisfaction as he looks up at Steve from the space between Steve’s thighs. 

“You liked that?” he asks. His voice is raspy, with a gravel to it that sure hadn’t been there before. The sound of it goes straight to Steve’s gut like a bolt of lightning, and, groaning, he hauls Bucky up by the hair and mashes their lips together. Bucky manages to catch himself against Steve’s shoulders, but the moment he regains his balance, his hands immediately slip down to wrap around Steve’s cock, jerking him off.

Steve gasps against the seam of their lips, and Bucky groans back as he licks into Steve’s mouth, kissing him even harder. Steve feels the chair begin to tip beneath their joint weight, and gently pushes Bucky back and off, until Bucky’s standing with his back pushed up against the counter. 

Steve quickly steps into the space between Bucky’s spread legs and cups him through the front of his boxer briefs while licking a long line up the side of his neck. There’s a wet spot on the fabric covering the tip of Bucky’s cock, and as Steve rubs his thumb over it, Bucky moans, loud and unabashed. Steve finds that he really likes the way the rumble of Bucky’s voice vibrates against his lips, still pressed against Bucky’s throat, and Steve proceeds to suck a bruising hickey just below the curve of his jaw, hoping to feel it again.

Hands fumbling, the two of them manage to get a hold around each other. Steve shoves his hand down the front of Bucky’s briefs to wrap his fingers around Bucky’s cock, and as he does, he feels Bucky tighten his fingers in the back of Steve’s shirt, gasping out loud. Next thing he knows, Bucky’s palm is moving slick over his shaft once more. It’s an electric touch; one that brings a tremble to Steve’s limbs. Steadying himself, Steve continues to press Bucky’s body against the back of the counter as they jerk each other off in tandem, kissing and moaning into each other’s mouths.

They’re fully visible from the door. Steve knows. Anyone could walk in and see them like this. Hell, all it would take is for someone to throw a glance through the display window! 

It should make him nervous, self conscious, but it doesn’t. It’s like he’s drunk; all better judgement thrown out the window right along with every sense of modesty he might have ever housed in his body. All that matters is Bucky – this marvelous, amazing, impossible man who’s got his hand wrapped around Steve’s cock, who’s kissing him like his life depends on it.  _ Bucky. _

Still, as Steve throws a final glance towards said window, Bucky catches his gaze and follows it over his own shoulder, before chuckling as he gives the lobe of Steve’s ear a light nip with his teeth.

“Let ’em watch,” he whispers. “Really, I’d love it if someone saw me in here with a catch like you.”

The comment has Steve snapping his gaze back to Bucky’s face, hardly able to believe what he’d just heard. But Bucky just grins back at him while twisting the angle of his hand on the upstroke to coax a moan out of Steve’s throat. It’s all it takes for Steve to surrender whatever self control he has left. He kisses Bucky; frantic, messy, panting out broken moans and whimpers while Bucky chuckles into their kiss, low and dirty, as if Steve’s desperation both amuses him and turns him on at once.

It lights a spark of competition inside Steve’s chest, and growling low in his throat, he knocks Bucky’s hand away in order to wrap his own hand around them both. Using his other hand to grab around the swell of Bucky’s ass, he pushes the two of them closer together. Bucky groans, both in surprise and pleasure as he immediately rocks his hips forward and into the tight circle of Steve’s fingers. 

With one hand still clinging to the back of Steve’s shirt, Bucky reaches up and curls his fingers in Steve’s collar, holding on for dear life as Steve strokes them faster, the movements of their thrusts fueling the fire in Steve’s abdomen to make him burn even hotter.

Their gazes meet, glassy and awed. The sound of Steve’s palm produces a wet, filthy noise as Steve rubs it over both of their cockheads, polishing both their glans and frenulums, over and over. As Bucky’s body gives a violent twitch, Steve nods, hoping that his eyes are capable of asking the question his mouth can’t physically bring itself to form. Bucky replies with a moan and and a sharp shove of his pelvis that sends his eyelids fluttering as he nods back.

Steve feels like he should be saying something, but for the life of him, he can’t come up with anything that would make sense. He’d probably just ruin the mood and make a fool of himself. He’s convinced of it, but he opens his mouth anyway – for what purpose, he doesn’t know – and then the edge is right there, white and blazing, cutting through his entire body like a razor’s edge of pleasure. 

He holds Bucky’s gaze through all of it, blind yet seeing. Gasping, he sees the exact moment Bucky’s vision turns glazed, feels the force as Bucky’s body locks up in his arms. He hears him choke out a strangled cry as he spills over Steve’s hand and his own chest, his release mixing with the still warm slick of Steve’s own come.

Groaning and panting, Steve sags down with his brow pressed against Bucky’s shoulder, using the counter to keep himself pushed up high enough not to get any spunk smeared over the front of his t-shirt. God, he hadn’t even noticed how warm he’d gotten, and now he’s sweating so hard he can feel beads of perspiration form to roll down the side of his temple.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, awestruck. “That was…  _ Jesus…! _ ”

Bucky laughs – just as breathless and awed – and when Steve lifts his head, Bucky strokes his hand over the side of Steve’s face. For a moment, his gaze grows distant, as if he sees something in Steve’s eyes that he hadn’t expected to find, but is glad he did.

“Yup,” he says, as if to himself. “Still cute.”

“Well,” Steve replies while trying hard to keep his smile from turning embarrassingly ditzy, endorphins making him feel bold. “What do you suggest we do about that?”

“Don’t know,” Bucky quips back as he straightens up. He doesn’t let go of Steve’s shirt as he adds, “Any ideas?”

“I mean…  you could always give me your number?” Steve suggests innocently between panting breaths. “Or…”

“Or?” Bucky echoes, clearly amused by this new game of theirs.

“Or,” Steve repeats, with the same false sense of modesty, “I could just ask you out right now?”

Bucky laughs. Looping both his arms around Steve’s neck, he plants a long, slow, and obnoxiously indecent kiss on his lips, before pulling back again, grinning wide.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with both?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to share your thoughts on the fic in the comments :)  
> You can always find me on [Tumblr](http://chiyume.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/chiyume87), should you want to talk there instead.  
> I do my best to respond to messages as soon as I get the time, and I love talking to people, so please don't hesitate to write me. Just be patient, for I am a giant slow-poke XD <3


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